


What Happened In Budapest

by Angel_with_an_assbutt



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 23:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3307544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_with_an_assbutt/pseuds/Angel_with_an_assbutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A simple hit in Budapest goes horribly wrong when Natasha's past comes back to haunt her. Just how far is Clint willing to go to get the fiery assassin back? </p><p>*beginnings of BlackHawk*<br/>Hurt/comfort<br/>little bit of angst<br/>lots of action and suspense</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wrap Me In a Bolt of Lightning

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there!! This is my first ever fanfiction attempt so I hope you all enjoy it!! It's a completed story so no waiting for updates! hurray! 
> 
> DISCLAIMER I own nothing from Marvel, I'm just borrowing their lovely characters

She woke instantly, her eyes shooting open and taking in her surroundings with a bleary sweep of the room. Natasha stretched like a cat, working any kinks out of her muscles from the night before. Without even glancing at her clock she knew it was roughly ten minutes before 4 am, she had an uncanny internal clock that came with years of solo work. 

Rolling off the bed Natasha grabbed her athletic shorts and a tee shirt she had laid out the previous night then laced up her new Puma brand trainers and was out the door headed towards the training gym. She made it a habit to be up this early every day she was on base in order to have the least amount of social contact as possible, however today, the odds weren’t in her favor, as she rounded the corner another figure was stepping out of their bunk room. His back was still to her and she quickly pondered turning and going the long way around, especially when she looked closer and realized who the back belonged to. 

There was only one man who had a muscular back and arms like a Greek god, the current bane of her existence, Clint Barton. In the split second that all this shot through her mind, Barton, with senses nearly matching hers, turned and caught her eye. 

“So Spidey,” his obnoxious nickname for her made her eyes roll, “Where ya headed off to this morning?” She shot him a droll look.

“What, your keen eyes can’t tell I’m headed to the gym?” She fired back at him. Clint cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Someone hasn’t had their coffee yet this morning huh?” His blue-grey eyes glinted with a little mischief. He knew better than to push the Black Widow in the mornings, but damn if he didn’t enjoy the rise it always got out of her. 

Natasha just shot him a glare that would have made lesser men back down, and walked around him intent on reaching the gym to try and run off some of the irritation he caused. As she continued down the hallway she could hear him following her, no doubt trying to keep annoying her. Little did she know Clint’s eyes were glued firmly to her ass as he followed her.

As she was taking a warm up lap on the track she could hear the repeated twang and thwack of Clint’s bow as he practiced on the range near the track. Clint wasn’t called Hawkeye for nothing, as he had the eyes of a hawk and also the reputation that he never missed his shot. As far as Natasha knew he had never missed a shot in the year and a half since he was brought in to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. 

She thought back to the first time she had seen him, he had been part of the security detail for the Prime Minister of Israel at the banquet of the year and she, along with Coulson were tasked with bringing him down. She remembered the way his blue-grey eyes were hard as stone and the air around him bled with barely contained aggression, and the moment his eyes caught hers from across the ballroom she knew the Black Widow had finally met her match. She couldn’t deny it, there was a part of her so in tune with the attitude he was putting off that her curiosity was instantly sparked, as well as her hormones. 

“Natasha!!” A voice broke through her train of thought and she snapped her head around towards the origin of the noise, her eyes settling on the familiar face of her handler Phil Coulson. She jogged over to meet him, shooting him an irked look when she saw Clint trotting over to join them. Phil just rolled his eyes, familiar with the Widow’s dislike of socializing before 6am. Once Clint was standing alongside Natasha, Phil addressed them both,

“Alright guys, this just came across my desk this morning, courtesy of Fury.” He held out two briefing folders and two pairs of hands grabbed them. Natasha immediately flipped hers open while Clint glanced over her shoulder. She felt Clint move closer and opened her mouth to tell him where he could stand, when Phil talked right over her. 

“So, lets take this over to Briefing Room 8, and get familiar with what you two will be taking on. We’ve gotta hurry, wheels up in 3 hours.” With that Phil turned on his heel and started towards the hallway. 

Clint shot Natasha his famous smirk and started after Phil, his long strides eating up the distance. She stood frozen for a few moments, everything finally clicking into place, she was being paired with Barton for an assignment. Natasha saw red at that realization, the Black Widow does not work with others, especially when her partner is Clint Barton. Oh Phil is so going to pay for this one. Natasha thought to herself as she hurried down the hallway after Barton. 

Phil knew the moment Natasha strode into the briefing room that the puzzle pieces had all fallen into place for her. She usually came across as dangerous, but the air around her was practically buzzing with menace, and it was all being directed towards himself and Clint, although Clint seemed blissfully unaware that he had somehow angered the Widow. 

Phil looked a little closer and realized that Clint knew exactly why Natasha was pissed and damn, if he wasn’t enjoying it! Phil shook his head ruefully, he needed to head this off before Barton’s big mouth got him killed, because it was going to be hard to explaining to Fury why their best agent slaughtered their second best agent.

“Okay you two, we have just under 3 hours to get you prepped and on the plane for Budapest. You’ll have roughly 8 hours of flight time to go over this more in depth, but let’s get started.” Phil raised his eyes to meet those of his agents and nodded before looking back at the dossier. 

“SHIELD has put a hit out on Dario Vexx, weapons dealer, also been rumored to be in the black market selling organs.” Natasha’s face remained unreadable, while Clint just arched an eyebrow. 

“Natasha you’re going to be employed in the nearby brothel, as Vexx has been spotted there many times.” Phil glanced at her to gauge her reaction to this assignment, and caught a flicker of something before it was shuttered behind her usual mask. A quick glance at Clint revealed that he was clenching his jaw, something he only did when he was upset about something. He and I are going to need to talk before he goes. Phil thought to himself before continuing.

“Clint, you will also be in the brothel, but as a potential customer. Then you’ll provide cover and backup as needed.” He looked straight at Clint, “It’s your job to make sure Vexx takes Natasha home, make sure that happens.” Clint waggled his eyebrows at Natasha and that earned him a swift punch in the ribs. 

“Just keep your hands to yourself Barton.” Natasha growled at him as he winced and rubbed his side. 

“Damn Spidey, we really need to find you an outlet for all that aggression!” Clint tossed back at her. Grinning when he saw the fire light in her deep green eyes, it was a beautiful and deadly sight when the Widow got all riled up. 

"Children!" Phil all but yelled at them. “I need you to focus! Clint, stop baiting her. Natasha, take a breath.” He watched as Natasha collected herself and then turned his eyes to Barton, making sure he cut the crap then gestured to the file.

“Any questions before I send you two to the infirmary to get cleared?” Natasha shook her head then collected her file and left the room silently. Clint started to get up before Phil spoke up,

“Clint, sit back down.” Clint shot him a surprised look before carefully smoothing his features into a blank mask, almost as impressive as Natasha’s. “Alright Hawk,” He used Clint’s call name affectionately. “Why are we poking the Russian bear?” Clint almost cracked a smile at that description but managed to keep it to a smirk. 

“What? Natasha? She’s just abnormally uptight about everything. Plus you caught her before her morning coffee, that’s a big no no.” He leaned back in his chair hoping Phil hadn’t caught his flash of panic and protectiveness when he heard Natasha was going to be basically whored out to Vexx. But unfortunately for him Phil was very perceptive when it came to reading his archer. 

“Okay, so this has nothing about trying to hide your feelings for her then?” Phil watched his eyes as he spoke watching for the slightest crack in Clint’s mask. To Clint’s credit he managed to hold the façade without so much as a flinch. 

“I’ve told you before Phil, she’s just too much fun to rile up. Nothing more than that. Besides, she’s the single most deadly woman I have ever met, kind of a turnoff when you know she has 25 ways to kill you using her hands alone.” Clint raised an eyebrow to punctuate this thought. Phil sighed then waved his hand at the kid.

“Go on, get your ass down to medical to get cleared, you have a flight to catch.” Clint mock saluted as he was headed to the door. “And Clint,” Phil suddenly called after him, “play nice with the nurses, I don’t want to be called down there to babysit you.” Clint just flashed him the one finger salute and kept walking down to the medical bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's chapter one!! 
> 
> Leave me a review and let me know what you think so far!
> 
> xoxo


	2. Send Me On My Way Still Smiling

As Clint took the stairs down to the medical bay he turned Phil’s words over and over in his head. He wasn’t falling for the infamous heartbreaker that was the Black Widow, right? He shook his head hard, as if that would help clear the confusion up there, he just needed to get this assignment over with, and maybe while Natasha was busy with Vexx he would find himself a nice little honey to pass the time with. Clint tried to ignore the way his stomach rolled at the thought of another woman. 

Deep in thought Clint almost missed the door to the infirmary, correcting himself and mentally pushing everything to the side he took a deep breath and walked in the door. Clint hated everything about the medical bay, from the stringent scent of antiseptic, to the glaring white that was seemingly everywhere; it made his eyes hurt just to look at it. It made his skin crawl to be in there, which was why he had a very impressive escape record, and was also why most of the medical staff cringed when they saw him walk through the doors. 

Clint made his way down the hall to the petite blonde nurse who glanced up and her eyes widened. He felt his lips curl into his signature smirk, the one that always made girls take a second look, and smiled inwardly when the nurse’s eyes wandered to his lips as she pointed him to the room his examination was in. I’ve still got it. He thought to himself. Once inside the room Clint looked to the doctor who was glancing over his charts.

“Well Doc, aside from the multiple gunshot wounds, which are all old news, I’m good right? No need for any examination here, just sign that clearance slip and I can be out of your hair in no time.” Clint prayed the doctor would take the bait and just let him go, but fate was a cruel bitch. Doctor Graley looked up from Clint’s charts and pinned him with a stare. Clint shrugged, seemingly unfazed and hopped onto the examination table. 

“I’m sorry Clint but you know the rules as well as I do. We can’t send you out on an assignment unless I clear you. And after your last doozy of a gunshot wound I have to make damn sure you’re at 100%.” Graley moved to the right side of Clint’s back and lifted his shirt, probing at the puckered scar tissue, determining there was no inflammation or pain Graley righted Clint’s shirt then called in a nurse to do the regular vitals check.   
“Alright Clint, that wound seems to be healing nicely, you’re damn lucky we got that bullet out of your gut when we did.” Graley winced when he remembered what bad shape this kid was in less than six months ago. 

“I’ll clear you, but take care of yourself this time. Please try to stop picking up bullets like they’re going out of style.” Graley let out a frustrated breath when Clint only shrugged and offered his classic smirk. The kid was damn good at his job, even if he did seem to come back every time with a gunshot wound. 

“Okay, get your shirt on and get out of here Barton!” Graley grumbled at him. Clint slipped his shirt on over his head as he made his way out of the door, muttering under his breath about how it wasn’t his fault that the bad guys always shot at him. Graley just shook his head and handed Clint’s file over to the nurse at the counter before heading back to his office. 

 

Natasha stood in her bunk room with her empty duffel on her bed and her Widow’s suit in her hands. Her bright green gaze was clouded over and her thoughts were far away. If she were one for analyzing emotions regularly she would realize that she was dreading this assignment. She had carried out many seduction based assignments before; both with SHIELD and the Black Widow Program, but this one felt so wrong. The thought of having to put her body out and fake the sexy smiles and winks was enough to make her stomach churn. 

Ever since that one drunken night after his long assignment in Colombia she hadn’t been able to get his blue-grey eyes out of her head. And the worst part was she wasn’t even sure if Clint remembered what had happened, she didn’t think he did. That thought brought along a more complex one, did she even want him to remember it? A knock on the door broke her reverie, and she whirled as she saw Clint push his way into her room. 

“Hey Romanoff, you about ready to head to the hangar?” Clint blurted out as he stepped further into her space. There was a duffel bag on his shoulder, along with the ever present bow and quiver strapped to his back. His eyes narrowed slightly when he saw her empty bag on the bed.

Natasha quickly avoided his gaze and tossed her Widow suit in the bag and walked to the closet, pulling out three Beretta’s, extra clips, several different wicked looking knives, and finally her ‘Widow’s Bites’ and tossed them into the bag on top of her clothes then nodded to Clint.

“Let’s get moving.” Natasha grabbed her duffel and deftly stepped around Clint, moving towards the hangar before he could offer a smartass reply. Clint stared at her retreating form, he could have sworn that when he opened the door and saw her face there was dread, vulnerability, and a flash of another emotion he wasn’t sure he could identify. 

“You coming or not Barton?” Her voice echoed back to him and Clint started after her, knowing there was plenty of time to think on the flight to Budapest. 

 

Once Clint finished checking the outside of their Quinjet he walked up the ramp to find Natasha already curled up in the seat, nose buried in the briefing packet. Clint passed her and slid into the pilots seat beginning his pre-flight checklist. 

“Tower this is Bravo Niner. Are we clear for takeoff?” Clint held the radio to his mouth waiting for the reply. 

“Bravo Niner you are cleared. Commence takeoff.” With that Clint set the radio back down and taxied the jet to the runway. As the tarmac sped by, the jet gracefully pulled up and into the air without a hitch. With a few pushes of a button Clint had the autopilot set, he leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head and turned again to Romanoff.

She was still absorbed in that stupid mission file and probably ignoring him he decided. Clint found himself getting lost in watching her, her fiery red curls framed her face giving her a delicate appearance; and those eyes, Clint loved the way her eyes flashed when she was angry. 

I’d love to kiss the angry right out of her. Woah. Wait, where did that thought come from? Clint nearly toppled out of his chair when he shook his head trying to rid it of the unbidden image of how Natasha’s eyes would look glazed over with desire. He snuck a quick look at Natasha hoping she didn’t notice his quick motion, unfortunately for him she did. 

Fuck. Was the one thought rolling through his head as he schooled his face into some semblance of normalcy, praying to whoever was listening that he wasn’t blushing like a schoolgirl. Clint turned his chair around preferring the safety of the cockpit window over the glare of the Black Widow he felt burning into his back. He cleared his throat and grabbed his own copy of the brief and flipped it open trying to get lost in the information on the pages. 

 

Natasha knew the second his eyes were on her, she could literally feel his gaze moving over her features, and for a split second she found herself wondering if he liked what he saw. She refused to follow that thought trail for any length of time. She was the Black Widow, many of her targets had all but thrown themselves at her, and here she was wondering if the archer, who threw off vibes nearly as deadly as her own, was interested in her. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a flurry of movement. She glanced up and briefly met the stormy blue-grey eyes of Clint as he was turning around as quickly as possible. Natasha’s eyes narrowed as she watched him pick up his own files and delve into them. A quick peek at her watch revealed that they had nearly 7 more hours until they landed, and they still needed to make sure they were on the same page with moving forward in the assignment. 

“Barton.” He jerked around in his seat at the sound of his name, one eyebrow raised as if to say he was listening. “Do you have any idea how we’re going to lure Vexx into picking me to take home?” Natasha tried not to let the irritation of having to work with a partner bleed into her voice. At her mention of Vexx she thought she caught a spark of something dangerous cross his eyes, but it was gone so fast she figured she must have imagined it.

“Well, we cant have you just showing up out of nowhere. I figured I would act as a wealthy ‘businessman’ and bring you with me as my travel companion. We hang out around the brothel for a couple days, you make a few advances if you see Vexx and go from there.” Clint’s jaw clenched when he thought of Natasha turning her wiles on Vexx, but he quickly shot that thought down. 

“That’s a start I suppose.” Natasha replied quietly. “We’ll get to the safe house and get our aliases lined up, then hit the brothel by tomorrow.” She took in Clint’s tense posture then added, “Why don’t we both get some rest, we can work on this more once we land and get our bearings.” Clint nodded, pulled his sunglasses off the top of his head and put them on, then leaned back in his chair. Within a few minutes Natasha heard his breathing even out and she quickly fell asleep to the slow rhythmic sound of Clint breathing.


	3. Maybe That's the Way I Should Go

They landed right around sunset in Budapest, Clint watched Natasha as the brilliant hues of the setting sun splashed across her face. The light making her red hair stand out even more, he ached to reach out and brush the stray lock of hair out of her face, but knew that action would probably end up with a very angry spider and a broken hand for him. 

Natasha stirred as the Quinjet started its decent to the small airport on the outskirts of the town. As she woke up she was aware of his gaze on her again, she peeked through the curtain of hair covering her face and was drawn to the intensity in his blue-grey storm cloud eyes. 

The way he was looking at her took her back to the first time she ever made eye contact with him, the confidence and aggression that bled from every pore called to the wildness she knew was bottled up inside her. 

Knowing he would notice she was awake any second now Natasha blinked her eyes open and stretched her stiff muscles with a barely audible purr. She shot Clint a smirk when she heard him swallow tightly.

“How’d you sleep?” Clint asked her, still watching her every move intently. Natasha shrugged her shoulders and cracked her neck before standing up and striding towards the cockpit, stopping just short of his chair.

“Just fine considering I was curled up on a tiny seat for over seven hours.” She absentmindedly pushed her sleep mussed hair back from her face as she took in the last few rays of light as the sun slipped behind the horizon. Clint just nodded not wanting to break the peaceful moment. 

 

As Clint watched the rays of sun play across Natasha’s face he knew instantly when she woke. He didn’t stop his study of her however, even though he was almost positive she was eyeing him through her hair. 

But it was worth it when she slowly opened her brilliant emerald eyes still blurry from sleep, and to his total surprise she purred when she stretched, like a damn cat! And if that wasn’t enough to turn him on she turned those bright green eyes on him and smirked! 

“How’d you sleep?” Clint somehow managed to get the words out of his suddenly dry mouth. 

“Just fine considering I was curled up on a tiny seat for over seven hours.” Then she moved closer and he was enveloped in the warm vanilla scent that was purely Natasha, and he was a goner. Clint had no idea how he was going to get through this assignment without wringing Vexx’s neck for even looking at her.

Clint thought back to the aftermath of the mess in Colombia when Natasha had found him down at the range ready to explode with all the emotion he had bottled up inside. After only icy silence from the Black Widow the entire year he had been at SHIELD, she was the last person he expected to see that night. Under the confidence that tints the air around her Clint could sense a common darkness inside, something he could relate to.

It turned out that Natasha and several bottles of vodka finally helped ease some of the guilt Clint felt was eating at his soul. And when she had tentatively brushed her lips against his Clint breathed her in like a man drowning. Her very essence was a lifeline that he gripped with both hands, then it stopped as soon as it started, and Natasha had disappeared. Clint wasn’t even sure she remembered any of it as she had returned to her regular icy distance, and he was left drowning in his guilt again. 

The steady beeping of the autopilot jerked Clint from his thoughts and he grabbed the toggles and pointed the plane to the runway approaching in the distance.

 

Four Hours Later……

Within the confines of the rather small safe house Clint paced back and forth, tugging incessantly at the tie around his neck. He hated the way his jacket constricted his shoulders, but Natasha had insisted that it was what he needed to wear, so here he was dressed in this monkey suit. 

“You know tugging at the tie like that is just going to make it tighter.” Natasha’s voice floated out from behind him as she stepped out of the bedroom. Clint turned, a smart ass reply on his lips, but it died when he saw her. 

She was wearing an emerald green corset, that perfectly matched her eyes, with a small bustle on the behind and her legs seemed to go on forever in high stockings and stilettos. Her fiery red hair was pinned back from her face and fell in ringlets to her shoulders. 

Clint swallowed and made sure his eyes were not giving away the fact that he was practically salivating for a taste of the smooth skin stretching over her collarbone. 

Natasha simply arched an eyebrow at him, “What? Too conservative? I’m sure I could find something more revealing if you think that would help get me closer to Vexx.” Clint’s eyes swept her from head to toe again, then he met her eyes.

“I’m supposed to be a businessman with a ‘companion’ correct?” Natasha just nodded, not entirely sure what he was getting at. “Well I think you shouldn’t look too trashy or no one will take me seriously.” He cocked one eyebrow and smirked at her. “I need a classy escort and you fit the bill, Red.” 

“Glad I can live up to your standards Barton.” She rolled her eyes as she searched for a place to holster her blades. 

“I don’t think you have very many places to hide those in an outfit like that.” Clint immediately raised his hands in apology when he was glared down. He watched in curiosity as she made at least three blades disappear into her corset. “Remind me to never cross you in a dark alley Spidey.” Natasha just looked innocently at him.

“What Barton, don’t think you could take little old me in heels?” The innocent look turned into a wicked smile as Natasha headed towards the door. “Aren’t you coming?” She added when there was no smart ass reply. 

“I just almost feel bad for Vexx, he’s never gonna know what hit him.” Clint let a rare smile break across his face as Natasha slipped her hand into his arm and they headed toward the brothel.


	4. Straight Into the Mouth of the Unknown

Clint blinked when they walked through the door of the ‘brothel’. The way Phil had said it made it sound like an old fashioned whorehouse. However what they stepped into was a very modern, very busy gentleman’s club. Various women all in different states of undress gyrated on poles and in the laps of men in the shadows of the booths. 

“Don’t look so surprised Barton. Did you really expect a old western style brothel?’ Natasha discreetly elbowed him in the ribs and snickered. 

“Shut up Red. Let’s find a booth and scope the place out.” Clint grabbed Natasha’s offending elbow out of his ribs and steered her towards the back corner booth out of the way of most of the traffic. Clint dropped into the seat then pulled Natasha down onto his lap. She stiffened immediately. 

“What do you think you’re doing Barton?” She hissed at him. 

"We gotta play the part Romanoff, and that means you have to look like you actually want to be on my lap.” Clint tentatively brought his hand up on her back, pulling her a little closer when there was no reaction from her. His eyes were restlessly wandering the club looking for their target. Natasha, to her credit, relaxed instantly in his grip and brought her right hand up to grip the lapels of Clint’s shirt, then leaned in to whisper something in his ear.

"Well then Liam,” She used his aliases’s name as she practically purred into his ear. “maybe I should grab us a few drinks to play the part.” Clint fought every urge he had to shift in his seat as her breath ghosted over his ear.

“That would be great Katt, make mine a double.” He ground out as she wiggled herself out of his grip. God help me he prayed as he watched her lithe figure disappear into the flashing lights and faux smoke drifting through the club. 

 

Natasha sidled up to the bar and immediately gained the bartender’s attention. “3 double vodkas, straight..” She was going to need a little bit of liquid courage to keep her from falling deeper under the archer’s snare. Why couldn’t Vexx have been into men? She thought furiously as the bartender poured her shots. She smirked as she could almost hear Clint’s protests in her head. What I wouldn’t give to see Clint in my position. 

She slid several Euros across the bar top and grabbed the first glass and slammed it back, feeling the vodka burn its way down her throat and settle warmly in her belly. Natasha pushed the glass back towards the bartender, collected the other two glasses and weaved through the crowds back to Clint. 

 

A pair of dark brown eyes surveyed the crowd intent on catching the glimpse of emerald green they had seen earlier. There. Just to the side of the main stage was the stunning woman he spied earlier. Her porcelain skin glowed in the strobe lights and he noted how everyone around her stopped to stare momentarily. He pressed a hand to his ear, activating his comm device. 

“Она здесь.” (She’s here.) His head tilted slightly as he listened to the reply in his ear, then grinned. The Black Widow was going to be caught in her own web. He started to move towards her, cutting his way through the crowds with ease. 

 

Clint sighed and checked his watch again. Where is Natasha? I swear if she’s doing shots without me I’m gonna be pissed. His thoughts were interrupted by a petite brunette with curves for days who stepped up and straddled his lap, grabbing his tie and pulling him close. 

“Excuse me miss? I didn’t pay for a lap dance? Do you speak…” Clint was cut off when she leaned down and kissed him as her hands roamed down his chest. She moved from his mouth trailing kisses up his jaw towards his ear. He nearly jumped when her teeth grazed his earlobe and she whispered,

“The dance is compliments of the house.” She had a smokey bedroom voice and a trace of a Russian accent. Her hands had wandered back up and looped around his neck. “What? You don’t like what you see?” She questioned at his slight frown, then slowly leaned back, showing off her toned body, curved in all the right places. 

Clint drug his eyes away from her when he heard the sound of glass breaking and a thud. But the brunette grabbed his jaw and brought her lips back down onto his. Her nails were digging into his back, and he opened his mouth to break the kiss when she slipped her tongue inside. She tasted like cherries and vodka. Vodka. Where IS Natasha? 

Clint’s hands moved to the brunette’s hips and he started to pull her off his lap when he felt a pinch on the back of his neck. He raised his right hand up to rub at his neck as his vision started to get grainy. It felt like he was underwater, he couldn’t move his arms at all, and his head was spinning. He tried to shout out for Natasha couldn’t open his mouth. Darkness soon overtook him as he slumped back in the booth. 

“Человек вниз” (The man is down) The brunette spoke quietly into her comm as she motioned a man over to take care of Clint, he grabbed Clint and took him quickly out the back door of the club. 

 

Natasha held tightly to the two shots of vodka in her hand as a man bumped into her, barely avoiding sloshing any of the precious liquid over the sides. She shot him a glare but the man ignored it and reached for her arm, drawing her close enough to smell the stank of liquor on his breath. 

“Well, hello sweet thing. Care to keep me company tonight?” He drunkenly leered at her as his hand started to roam closer to her ass. Natasha blinked in confusion as grey dots started to cross her vision. She was about to tell the man exactly where he could put his hands when suddenly the world spun on its axis and she found herself falling into the quickly approaching shadows. The glasses of vodka shattered on the floor and a woman nearby screamed as Natasha collapsed onto the floor. Another man with dark brown eyes hurried towards her limp form.

“Oh no, she had too much to drink again!” He chuckled and scooped Natasha into his arms. Reassuring the small crowd of people who had gathered around her. “I told her to go easy on the vodka.” He remarked to the man who had bumped into her. At these words the drunken man’s look of worry morphed into a smile. 

“Have to watch these women like a hawk sometimes.” He slurred and stumbled away as another dancer caught his eye. The man holding Natasha moved quickly to the door mumbling into his comm. 

“У меня естьцель обеспечены. Переезд в точке рандеву.” (I have the target secured. Moving to rendezvous point.) He took Natasha out of the club and disappeared into the streets of Budapest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you love it leave me a review!! They make my day!! :)
> 
> xoxo


	5. Call Me a Sinner

The noises started to filter in first, low murmurings buzzing around in her head, then slowly the feeling returned. Natasha tried to move her hands to check if they were bound when she realized that she couldn’t move her body at all. The fog in her mind gave way to momentary panic as she tried to force her eyes open. What happened to me? 

Then it clicked, the vodka, the shadows, she was drugged. Ugh, rookie mistake Romanoff. She grumbled in her head. Clint! Her next thought had her panicking again, not noticing the voices had trailed off. She would have jumped had she been able to when a hand stroked down her cheek. 

Natasha’s eyelids were suddenly forced open and she stared into the face of Dario Vexx, but something about him seemed vaguely familiar. Before she could explore that thought he spoke. 

“Ah, Miss Romanoff. Good to see you’re back with us once more.” His deep voice held a deep Russian accent and he paced away. Natasha’s eyes darted frantically around the room, noting she was tied upright to a chair, but other than her chair the room was empty. “Now I’m sure you’ve realized that we drugged you, quite easily I might add.” Vexx chuckled. 

“I would have thought it would be more difficult. Regardless, the little cocktail you have running through your veins, which I’m sure you can feel the effects, is quite amazing. You’re paralyzed yet completely aware and able to feel pain.” He punctuated this statement by producing a blade and slowly dragging it across her collarbone. “It’s a nifty little neurotoxin very similar to the venom of your namesake, the Black Widow.” 

Natasha could feel the blood from the gash on her collarbone welling. She wished she could spit in Vexx’s face. How dare he incapacitate her like this! He must have noted the fire rising in her eyes because he chuckled again and grabbed her chin in his hand, forcing her head up to look at him.

“Now Natasha, or should I call you Natalia?” Natasha’s entire world ground to a halt. She hadn’t gone by Natalia Romanova since she had escaped from the Red Room Academy. Vexx continued smoothly unaware of the chaos he had caused in her mind.

“You see, the Red Room sent me to collect you.” With that statement he stood in front of her, his hand went to his face and pulled pads out of his mouth, then removed the fake nose. He unbuttoned a few buttons on his shirt and a long jagged scar that ran from below his right ear across his neck to his left collarbone, was revealed. Natasha’s stomach hollowed out when she saw the scar. She had put that there, years ago. 

“I could take the contacts out too, but I’m sure you recognize me now darling.” He smiled gruesomely at her. Aleksei Pavlovich, I thought he had died when I burnt the Red Room during my escape. Natasha’s mind was spinning, she knew the Red Room had continued its program, but was struggling after she nearly wiped the Academy out when she escaped 4 short years ago. 

Aleksei was in her face a moment later. “The Red Room never lets you go Natalia. It’s time to come back home. You should be thankful Ivan didn’t issue a hit on you. He still thinks you could be useful.” He all but spit the last word. “If it were my choice I would kill you here, slowly, intimately, in every way I know you fear.” 

Natasha put all the hate she had bubbling inside her into her eyes, all the while still trying to get her unresponsive body back under her control. Aleksei turned to her holding a needle.

“As much as I’ve enjoyed our little chat Natalia, I really must be going. Killing Vexx and taking his spot as a weapons dealer has kept me rather busy.” He moved closer, stuck the needle into her neck, and pushed the plunger sending another dose of drugs into her system. 

“Until next time Widow.” Aleksei said as he unlocked the door and let himself out. Grey dots were starting to swim in her vision, the last thing she remembered before she surrendered to the shadows was the snick of the key locking the door. 

 

Clint came to slowly, blinking away the shadows, then squinting against the harsh sunlight that filtered through his vision. God my head. Was the first coherent thought he had, then it hit him. Clint sat up quickly the past night’s events flooding his head. Natasha! Where was she? He looked around finding himself sitting in a back alley somewhere in the poorer parts of Budapest. 

I’ve gotta get back to the safe house, maybe Natasha is waiting for me there. Clint tried to think optimistically as he used the nearby wall to pull himself up. As he stood he nearly doubled over from the pain shooting through his body. He took a second to inventory the injuries he was starting to feel crop up all over his body. 

Clint knew by the way his breath was catching he probably had a couple broken ribs along with deep bruises over most of his body. He could feel blood dripping sluggishly out of a gash on his head and his left knee was swollen to twice its size. 

He looked down at his watch to see how long he had been out when he realized that his watch was gone. A quick pat down of his pockets revealed that they were empty as well. 

He let out a breath of relief, whoever did this didn’t know who he was, he was left out here to make it look like a mugging. With that revelation he knew something wasn’t right, and someone had Natasha. Pulling himself back up on the wall slowly Clint made his way out of the alley and headed back to the safe house. 

 

Agent Phil Coulson paced back in forth in front of the phone in his small office, he had been expecting updates from Clint and Natasha nearly 8 hours ago. It wasn’t like them to miss a check in. Well, it’s not like Natasha to miss a check in, Clint just enjoys messing with me. Phil nearly rolled his eyes thinking about his archer. 

Phil couldn’t help the small smile of pride that stole across his face. He had, in bringing Clint and Natasha into SHIELD, assembled the most deadly duo in SHIELD history. It sure hadn’t been easy going though, as each one had posed a number of complications and issues they had to work through. 

Natasha had been like taming a wildcat, all claws and teeth on that one, and an attitude to match. Phil knew how much she struggled with leaving the Red Room Academy and Black Widow program in her past, she felt she was tainted, and a danger to everyone around her. It had taken Phil nearly a year to get her to open up to him about what had happened to her, and he knew she still was haunted by nightmares of what she did before she came to SHIELD. 

Clint, was the opposite of Natasha. Where Natasha was all fire, Clint was more subtle. For months he hid in the vents and catwalks around the SHIELD base, showing his face only for training sessions. Phil had gone out on a limb in convincing Fury to give Clint a shot, and for a long time he was worried he had made the wrong decision in bringing the archer in. 

There were some days however, when the archer was at his most vulnerable that Phil knew, with time, Clint was going to be one of the best agents to walk the halls of the base. Nightmares also plagued Clint, and Phil had only recently learned what made Clint cry out in the middle of the night. 

_Phil was headed to his room after a debriefing session with Nick Fury. He was almost to his door when he heard what sounded like a muffled sob. Looking around he didn’t see anyone but heard the noise again, only it sounded more distressed. Phil started walking back the way he came when he heard a keening whimper coming from the door in front of him, Barton’s door._

_He gently knocked, and when there was no answer Phil slowly opened the door. Glancing around the room his eyes were drawn to the figure struggling on the bed, muffled whimpers and gasps escaping Clint’s mouth. Phil moved closer debating what to do, he knew when he woke Natasha she usually came after him with a blade, and he really didn’t want to have to deal with a knife wound tonight, so he tried calling Clint’s name, attempting to break through the grip his nightmare had on him._

_“Clint!” Phil watched the archer stir slightly. “Clint, wake up. It’s okay, it’s just a bad dream.” He jumped back when Clint jackknifed upright, breathing heavily. Clint’s blue-grey eyes met his and Phil could see all the pain and guilt briefly before Clint brought his mask back into place._

_“What are you doing in here Coulson?”Phil was sure the words were meant to be scornful but any heat was taken out of the statement due to the breathlessness Clint was experiencing. He watched as the archer absently rubbed over the scar that stretched across his chest while trying to get his breathing back under control._

_“I heard noises in here and I was just checking to make sure you were all right.” Coulson purposely left out that the noises he heard were sobs knowing that Clint hated to show any weakness at all. “Did you want to talk about it at all?” Phil figured he would offer, though he was expecting to be turned down._

_“There was so much blood.” Clint gasped out. Phil’s expression sharpened as he quickly looked the archer over checking for any wounds on him. He saw Clint pulling at his shirt panicked, his breathing starting to quicken again._

_“Hey hey hey, Clint, you’re okay. You’re safe.” His words didn’t seem to have any effect on Clint who was in the middle of a full blown panic attack, and starting to hyperventilate. Phil moved in closer, putting a hand around Clint’s shoulders he squeezed tight then commanded, “Barton, breathe. I need you to take a deep breath right now.”_

_The authority of his tone seemed to get Clint’s attention, and after a few seconds was able to get several deep breaths in. Clint’s hand on his chest slowly dropped into his lap, and they sat in silence broken only by Clint’s deep breaths._

_“Thank you Coulson.” The archer said quietly. Phil just nodded trying not to embarrass Clint. After several more moments of silence Clint broke it saying, “I was stabbed when I was just 15, then left for dead.” Phil’s eyes widened in the dark once he realized that Clint was opening up. “There was so much blood, I still don’t know how I lived through it.”_

Phil was pulled from his memory by the ringing of the phone he had been anxiously staring at for the past 8 hours. 

“Coulson.” He answered briskly. 

“Phil.” Clint’s voice broke on the one word. 

“What is it Barton? I’ve been waiting 8 damn hours for you to check in! You better have a good reason for keeping me waiting!”

“Phil, they drugged me. I woke up in an alley.” Clint’s voice was getting slightly more panicked. “And they have Natasha.”


	6. Call Me a Saint

Clint set the phone down on the table and stared at it for a long minute. Phil was back in DC putting an extraction team together and trying to activate Natasha’s GPS device that was implanted in the forearm of every SHIELD agent. Clint knew it was a waiting game now until they were able to pinpoint Natasha’s location. 

He wished he could go after her, but had no idea where to begin. Clint’s head ached from the concussion he was sure he had, and he felt the broken ribs shift with every breath he took. He sighed heavily and limped into the bathroom of the safe house looking for the first aid kit he knew was in there. 

He shook a few painkillers out into his hand and tossed them into his mouth, dry swallowed them then grimacing at the shooting pain in his ribs. Clint caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror as he wiped the grime off his body with a cloth, there was a deep gash running from the right side of his forehead down to his eyebrow, and a deep purple bruise on his jaw. He picked up some antibiotic cream and smeared it onto the open wound, knowing he probably needed a few stitches, but not caring enough to do anything about it. 

Guilt was clawing at his insides, he should have been able to keep Natasha safe. Clint slammed his hands on the sink ignoring the pain that shot through his abdomen, he deserved it, he had to find Natasha. In his mind he could see her bright green eyes filled with pain and accusation. Clint had to take several deep breaths attempting to keep the demons that swirled inside at bay. 

He would find Natasha and they would both make it back to SHIELD, Clint knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something went wrong. He had so much blood on his hands, more than he would ever be able to scrub away. But somehow, Natasha, with her fire and her short kiss had managed to convince Clint that just maybe there was a way to move forward.

Snapping out of his thoughts Clint unbuttoned his torn and dirty dress shirt revealing dark purple and black bruises covering his sides and stomach. Taking a second to breathe through the pain he grabbed an ACE bandage from the first aid kit and started wrapping it tight around his torso. 

Once it was tight enough Clint made his way out of the bathroom and towards the cot where he had thrown his duffel. Rummaging through it he pulled out a clean tee shirt, his kevlar vest, and his beloved bow and quiver as well as his two Desert Eagles. Whoever had Natasha was really going to regret it. Clint tugged the tee shirt over his head, grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge then sat down, eyes glued on the phone, awaiting Phil’s call so he could make his move. 

 

Consciousness returned suddenly for Natasha, as the details of what had happened came flooding back. She jerked against the restraints, nearly crying out in relief when she realized she had control of her body again. Not sensing anyone in the room with her she opened her eyes trying to get an idea of where she was. 

It was a small shabby room with not much room for anything more than the chair she was bound to. Natasha wiggled her numbed fingers and toes trying to get blood flowing in her body and also testing the strength of her bindings. It felt like a thick coarse rope tying her feet to the chair and her hands behind her, after moving and twisting her hands experimentally for several minutes Natasha admitted defeat. 

This was Aleksei after all, and he knew exactly what she was capable of. In fact, she had been bound just like this the last time Aleksei had laid his eyes on her, right before she had escaped and blew up half of the Red Room Academy and set fire to the rest. 

…………  
 _The coarse ropes bit into the tender skin of her wrists as she furiously worked to loosen them. She knew she had little time before Aleksei returned to finish what he had started. Blood started to well up from her skin then slowly track down her hands before dripping off her fingers to join the large puddle on the floor._

_Without looking down she knew she had already lost too much of the precious substance, her head spun and the muscles in her body trembled with every movement she made. Aleksei if nothing else was thorough, he and his blade were masters of their trade, knowing just how much they could push a body before it broke._

_Unfortunately for her, she was on the receiving end of his cruelty now, as punishment for a failed mission. She mentally kicked herself for not killing that archer when she had the chance. To keep the title of Black Widow she had to be ruthless, she couldn’t be swayed by a pair of blue-grey eyes that seemed too weary and worn to be the eyes of the young man in front of her._

_But when their eyes had met, brilliant green versus stormy blue-grey, they had identical shadows lurking beneath the surface. In that moment they had connected, mutual understanding passing between them, and each had gone their separate ways. The ‘weakness’ she had shown was why she was strapped to this chair in the first place._

_She stopped struggling and let a blank mask fall into place as she heard the door to her room being unlocked. Aleksei stepped into the room, grinning when he met her eyes._

_“It is too bad you are awake, I had a rather creative way planned to wake you up.” His eyes had a sadistic gleam to them as he fingered the edge of his blade. “Don’t you worry though, I have plenty of other ideas for us to pass the time with.” He moved closer and raised the blade to her exposed thigh and slowly drew it across her skin watching raptly as the blood welled up and left crimson tracks down her leg, quickly adding to the puddle on the ground._

_Aleksei dipped a finger in her blood holding it up to the light to examine. “Such an interesting substance, blood.” He spoke quietly, almost to himself, before snapping himself from his thoughts and wiping the blood off on the remnants of her torn shirt. “Let’s have a little fun, shall we?”_  
………….

The scraping of the key in the lock had pulled Natasha from reliving that particular nightmare. She quickly closed her eyes and evened out her breathing not wanting to give away the fact that she was conscious. Heavy footsteps made their way towards her, then suddenly she was soaked, a bucket of water poured over her head. Still, she kept her eyes closed not wanting to give the bastard any satisfaction. The slight buzzing sound that filled the air made her stomach plummet, she knew that noise anywhere, along with the immense pain she knew was coming. 

Just as Natasha finished that thought she felt air move by her side then she jolted, muscles spasming and locking up as the electric currents moved through her body. She couldn’t help the way her eyes flew open or the sharp intake of breath as Aleksei pulled the long metal rod away from her body. The smell of burnt skin wafted up to her nose and she fought the instinct to gag. 

“There are those pretty green eyes.” Aleksei leered at her. “I told you I had a creative way planned to wake you up.” The pure hate that stole across his eyes should have scared Natasha, but she wasn’t the same cowed 15 year old girl she once was. 

“Go to hell.” She snarled as she held her head up high despite the current still running through her body. 

“I’ve already been, Natasha, you sent me there.” He unbuttoned his shirt fully this time, revealing the jagged scar she had put there, but the skin below was lumpy and scarred everywhere. “I was left bleeding out from this.” He gestured angrily to the long scar. “When the building started burning around me. I could feel my skin slipping down my back as it burned off.” Natasha tried to keep the horror out of her eyes. 

“I managed to crawl out of the Academy where Ivan found me and helped me recover. Since then I have made it my personal mission to hunt you down and make you pay for your crimes.” He twirled a blade in his hand then spoke again. “Imagine my surprise when I found out you disowned your mother country and joined the American pigs.” 

"It was so easy to fund the oblivious Dario Vexx and build him into one of the prime weapons dealers in Europe. Then I killed the idiot when I had attracted the attention of your agency and took his place, knowing they would send you after me. You always were an obvious choice when it came to using you to seduce men. It’s what made the Black Widow so dangerous, no one could resist your spell.” 

He turned back to her and with one hand grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, exposing her neck, and with the other hand laid the blade on her cheek. 

“It’s why we were never allowed to mark up your pretty face, no matter how badly I may have wanted to. But now,” He slid the blade down her cheek, “You’re at my mercy, and I’d like to take you down a few notches.” The electric buzz filled the air again and Aleksei drove it into her exposed thigh. 

Natasha’s jaw clenched as the volts from the cattle prod coursed through her body, and still Aleksei didn’t stop. Her muscles were locking up and then spasming so fast she was in agony. Grey dots began to flit across her vision, she couldn’t get a breath in, her throat closed tight, heart pumping hard. The shadows swirled as Natasha slipped into the darkness again. 

 

Phil nearly jumped in joy when he was able to pull up Natasha’s tracker on his computer. The device not only kept track of the agent’s location, but also served as a monitoring system. It tracked the agent’s heart rate and temperature, as well as a blood cell count. Looking closer however he frowned, something wasn’t right. 

As he pulled up the data he saw the heart rate rapidly rising, higher than he thought was possible before suddenly dropping to zero, then the device stopped transmitting. Phil felt his stomach plummet. That couldn’t be right. If that reading was right that meant that Natasha was dead.


	7. Tell Me It's Over

Phil just stared at the screen, frozen in shock. Natasha can’t be dead, how could a simple hit have gone so wrong? He glanced wearily around the plane he had gotten on as soon as he hung up with Clint. He had been coordinating with an extraction team stationed in Milan, Italy only 2 hours away from Budapest. They were awaiting orders to mobilize as soon as he had Natasha’s location. 

Another horrifying thought flashed through his mind, how was he going to tell Clint? The kid already felt like this was his fault, and Phil was starting to learn that he carried enough guilt for 10 people. Having been an agent of SHIELD for nearly 15 years Phil was very good at reading people, and not long after the Colombia mission he knew something had changed between his two top agents. 

If only the two of them knew how similar they really were. Their pasts, although full of different experiences, were overshadowed by the same haunting theme. Phil shook his head ruefully. They were a good team now, but if they had been able to connect they would have been unstoppable. 

Phil found his mind drifting back to the first glimpse he had gotten of Natasha’s big green eyes and striking red hair. 

………………

_Moscow in the dead of winter. Phil didn’t understand how anyone could stand living here, after only a few minutes outside he felt well and truly frozen. According to Fury the elusive Black Widow assassin had been rumored to be in Moscow, bunkering down after a rash of hits in the past two months._

_Phil had been tracking the Widow’s movements for the past year, and he was finally closing in. What had made her so elusive was that no one had a very good description of her, they had no age to go on, or even a hair color. She was truly the definition of a ghost, a very very deadly one. Last he had checked her accredited hit count was 268, and that number wasn’t including her rumored kills either._

_Phil was headed towards the Bolshoi Theatre, the Russian ballet was in town and it had been rumored that the Black Widow fancied ballet, so he was off to check it out. He mingled among the crowds milling around waiting for the show to start. Phil had been with SHIELD for 9, almost 10 years, and one of his best skills was reading people, he searched the crowd intensely looking for even a glimpse of her._

_A sparkling blue evening dress caught his attention, and his eyes traveled up the woman’s petite body when his breath left in a rush. She had porcelain skin, delicate collarbones, deep verdant green eyes, and fiery red hair. The evening gown hugged her in all the right places and had a deep slit up the side allowing tantalizing peeks at her legs. He watched as she smiled at someone speaking and fanned herself with her program._

_He looked closer and realized her eyes were always darting around, keeping a well trained eye on her surroundings, even while looking completely interested in the conversation at hand. Phil could feel once her eyes found his, the green swirling as something dark stole across her expression. And with that one glance he knew he had her._

_He looked down to press a hand to his comm speaking in low tones to the team on standby, but when he looked up she wasn’t there. Damn it all. He thought to himself. Phil looked around hurriedly straining to catch another glimpse of the Russian beauty._

_There. Out of the corner of his eye he saw shimmering blue disappear around a corner. Phil took off in hot pursuit not wanting the opportunity to slip through his fingers. Not surprisingly the long hallway ended in an exit to the street outside. He pulled his Glock out of its holster and thumbed the safety off. His orders were to bring the Black Widow in alive, but she didn’t know that and was probably planning on how to kill him now._

_He took a deep breath then opened the door, Glock up checking the dark corners around him lowering the gun slightly when it was clear around him. He let out a sigh, trying to hold back his disappointment when there was a whoosh of air and a weight was driving into his back, causing his Glock to tumble out of his grasp as he collapsed onto the ground._

_There were legs around his neck and the scent of vanilla filled his senses, then he was being thrown onto his back. There was a rustle of silk and a blade was being pressed to this throat._

_“Who sent you?” She snarled at him, the streetlight behind her giving her a deadly halo. Phil was very impressed, she got the drop on him, no pun intended, and did it in stilettos._

_“I only want to talk. I have a very lucrative offer for you.” He held his hands out indicating he was no threat._

_"Then talk, quickly." Her Russian accent was a little more pronounced as she gripped the blade tighter._

……………….

Phil’s phone rang shrilly, breaking though his memories, he grabbed it hurriedly and answered, “Coulson.”

“Phil, do you have a trace on Natasha’s signal yet, I’m going crazy just sitting here waiting.” Clint’s voice was sharp on the other line, he could nearly feel the archer’s tension crackling across the line. The silence stretched on for a beat, he wasn’t even sure how to break it to Clint. 

“Phil?” Clint’s voice broke, he paused a second seeming to pull himself together, “You did get a trace on her transmitter right?” Phil couldn’t find his voice, hell he still didn’t believe it yet either. Before he could even form a sentence Clint jumped in again.

“GODDAMN it Phil answer me!” The archer barely raised his voice, but his tone had taken on a deep guttural tone, one that Phil recognized. It was the tone Clint used to scare and intimidate, but it wasn’t going to work on him, he’d taken enough of Clint’s crap before. 

“The transmitter showed a spike in the heart rate then flatlined.” Phil winced at his words as soon as they were out of his mouth, guess he was going with brutal honesty today. The silence on the line was deafening. “Clint?” 

"That doesn’t mean anything, it could have malfunctioned.” Clint’s voice was soft, almost hesitating, polar opposite of the heat that had been there seconds ago. 

“Clint…” His voice trailed off, how could he tell Clint that Natasha was dead if he didn’t even believe it himself. 

“Where was the last transmitted location?” Phil distinctly heard the sound of a bag being zipped and a gun being cocked.

“Clint, you know as well as I do that this was a covert operation. I should have immediately pulled you out, SHIELD cannot be implicated in this.” He trailed off lamely.

“Just give me the location and you can say I went rogue. Im going to find her Phil. And if she is.. dead… I’m not leaving her body here. She deserves better than that.” Clint’s voice hardened daring Phil to contradict him. 

“Alright, I’m sending you the coordinates now. Put a comm in, I’m about an hour out from Budapest. I’ll coordinate things from the safe house, that way I’ll be able to call in the extraction team when you’re ready. I’ll make sure they have extra medics ready to go.”

“Thank you Phil.” 

“Now go, and get our girl.” 

................. 

As soon as he had ended his call with Phil his phone was buzzing, the coordinates of Natasha’s last known location staring at him. Clint grabbed his comm device out of his bag and tucked it into his ear setting it to the correct channel he and Phil always used. 

“Nest, this is Hawk. You read?” As he waited for Phil’s reply he was strapping on his thigh holsters and tucking his Desert Eagles inside, along with two extra clips. Next were a handful of deadly black and purple throwing stars, one of his favorite ‘toys’. 

“Copy that Hawk.” Phil’s voice crackled slightly over the line. “You get the coordinates?” His voice came in much clearer that time. 

“Yessir. Just strapping everything on now.” Clint replied as he pulled on his kevlar vest ignoring the pain from his ribs. He was focused on only one thing, pain be damned. 

“Clint…” Phil’s voice was gentle. “Be careful out there. I can’t lose both of you.” He admitted quietly. Clint hesitated slightly before replying, 

“You’re not losing either of us today.” His answer was quiet but firm. “I’ll bring her back.” Then Clint signed off the line. He doubled checked all his weapons before strapping his quiver to his back, then running his hand over his shining black carbon fiber bow. 

She was beautiful, and had gotten him through many tough times. Phil kept needling at him to get a new bow, he said the SHIELD techs had been working on one for him, but Clint couldn’t bring himself to part with the bow that was as much a part of him as his hand was. This was the bow he had bought after the payment from his first hit. He grabbed a rag out of his bag and oiled the string before drawing the string back taut delighting in the comfort his bow brought. He was unstoppable tonight. 

………………….

Clint squinted against the harsh glare of the setting sun as he laid on the roof of a nearby house, staring into his scope checking the perimeter of the house Natasha’s coordinates had brought him to. He counted one man patrolling the outside, but had glimpsed at least five more large men inside the house. Clint brought the scope up to his eye again looking for a good entry point. 

There. On the eastern side of the second story was a small balcony. His eyes moved to the buildings surrounding it, scanning for any easy path, finding it, he paused and watched the last few rays of the sun sink below the horizon. He thought back to just a less than 48 hours ago when he had watched the sun slip over Natasha’s face as it set. 

Clint shook his head, stopping the swell of emotions before they could overwhelm him, and focused on the task in front of him. Satisfied that there was enough darkness he rose quickly, tucked the scope in the pocket of his pants, slung his bow over his back, then took a few steps back before running towards the edge of the roof and jumping. 

He embraced the rush of adrenalin as he hung in the air for a second before tucking and rolling as he landed, ending in a perfect crouch. Within the same breath he was up and running again, his feet skimming across the roof tiles as easily as if he was running on a track. Clint used the downward pitch of the roof to increase his speed and launched himself upwards as his hands gripped the lower ledge of the roof connected to house Natasha was inside. 

Pulling himself up he could see the balcony just above him. Clint took a deep breath before crouching down and coiling his body then exploding upwards angling his body so his feet pushed off the wall and propelled him higher. His hands reached out seeking purchase when they slapped into the wood of the balcony. 

He quickly hoisted himself up over the railing and crouched in the shadows, peering inside. The house was silent, and Clint could only make out one shadow. He activated the link on his comm, “Nest this is Hawk, I’m in position, ready to go in.” Clint intoned quietly. 

“Affirmative Hawk, I have the extraction team from Milan in the air. They’re about 60 clicks out. You’re cleared to engage.” Phil’s voice was a reassuring sound to him. 

Clint stood up and knocked loudly on the door of the house. There was the muffled sound of footsteps moving closer, and the more distinct sound of a gun being cocked. Clint had moved just to the side of the door as it opened and a large man stepped outside looking for the source of the knock. 

He jumped while the man’s back was to him using his bowstring as a garrote, crushing his windpipe. Clint could hear the sound of voices anxiously calling through the man’s comm device, he took it out before pushing the dead man over the balcony, hearing him land with a satisfying thud. Clint whirled and an arrow was whistling through the air before embedding itself in the eye socket of a man who had come up the stairs. The man’s limp body slumped down against the wall. He put the comm device up to his mouth, 

“Tell your boss that Hawkeye is here. And we have some business to discuss.”


	8. I'll Still Love You the Same

Cold water sluiced over her head again as her eyes shot open, meeting the gaze of Aleksei as he held the bucket grinning evilly. 

“Rise and shine Widow, we’re not done here.” He chucked lowly. Natasha didn’t even have the strength to glare at him. She had a cut running down her cheek and her lower lip was swollen from her biting it as she was spasming from the repeated use of the cattle prod. 

She also had deep cuts running down the length of one thigh, which were bleeding sluggishly. But the worst damage came from the multiple burns all over her body from the cattle prod, her muscles were exhausted and she had lost too much blood. She knew from the lightheadedness she was experiencing that she wasn’t going to last much longer without some fluids. 

Her head rolled towards the door when she thought she heard a muffled yell. Aleksei must have heard something as well because he reached up to his comm device and mumbled a few low words in Russian. If she hadn’t been watching him intently she would have missed the way his eyes widened almost imperceptibly. She watched as a dark rage rippled across his face, then he turned on her. 

“Who did you call?” Aleksei stalked slowly closer. “WHO?” He roared. 

“I didn’t call for anyone...” Natasha managed weakly but was cut off when his large hand wrapped around her throat. 

“You lying bitch. You’re going to wait here while I take care of this little problem.” His hand squeezed tighter and black spots danced in her vision. She cursed in her mind as she weakly struggled before succumbing to the darkness again. 

 

Clint dropped the comm device onto the floor and smashed it beneath his foot after he had given his order. He glanced quickly around the upstairs room, which had been turned into a barracks of sorts with rows of cots filling the space. He started towards the stairs when he heard heavy footsteps and commands being tossed out in Russian. Clint was standing at the top of the stairs, arrow drawn, as the first man rounded the corner. The arrow shot through the air and into the front of the man’s throat then exiting and burying itself in the wall. One down, five to go. Before the body had even fallen to the floor Clint was in motion. 

He sprinted down the stairs, ducking and narrowly avoiding a bullet that whizzed by. He readied his bow again, letting loose another arrow, knocking the gun out of one of the four guy’s hands. Clint sprung off the last step, his leg kicking out and into the face of the first man, snapping his neck and sending him to the ground. He rolled neatly, landing in a crouch near the feet of the second man. 

Within the same breath Clint had moved upright, but not quick enough to dodge the punch to his ribs. All the breath in his lungs left in a whoosh and he saw stars at the pain of a fist against his broken ribs. The man was able to take advantage of Clint as he stumbled back a few steps, wrenching the bow out of his hands and tossing it far into the corner of the room. 

Clint recovered quickly and reached for one of this throwing stars, while sidestepping to avoid the kick coming at his back. As another man threw a right hook at his head Clint blocked it with his left forearm while lashing out with the right which held the throwing star. It whipped through the air and into the throat of man number three, he let out a gurgled yell as blood poured from his mouth. He was dead before he hit the floor. 

Clint turned to throw a punch at the next man when he felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed against his temple. He mentally kicked himself for allowing someone to get that close. He held up his hands.

“Alright, alright. I yield.” Clint whined as he started to kneel on the floor, hands still held out and empty. The two men converged on him, one keeping the gun trained on his forehead, the second grabbing his hands to cuff them behind his back. However as soon as the other man had grabbed his forearms Clint had latched onto the man’s wrists, he yelled as Clint pulled him forward. He flipped the man over his body just as the man with the gun fired. 

Clint could feel the body covering him jerk and flop as it took several rounds to the back and stomach as it flipped. That made four down, one to go. Clint froze as he listened to the other man tentatively moved forward, as soon as the steps stopped in front of the body laying on top of Clint he shoved hard and the body flew into the last man. 

Using the distraction Clint sprung into motion his arm reaching back for an arrow from his quiver as he landed on the man’s chest, riding him to the ground, and driving the arrow into the man’s throat pinning him to the ground. The man’s eyes were lit with fear as he gurgled several times before dying. Clint yanked the arrow out of the dead man’s throat and wiped it clean on his shirt. 

Suddenly the hair on the back of his neck stood up, but that was the only warning he had before the gunshot went off. Clint was already twisting around to face the newest threat when he felt a searing pain in his calf. Dr. Graley is gonna kill me, I really can’t go anywhere without being shot. The thoughts tumbled through his head even as Clint surged to his feet, ignoring the burning sensation in his left leg. 

“So you must be the Hawkeye.” The man stepping up from the stairs that had to lead to the basement had a thick Russian accent and piercing blue eyes. 

"And I don't care who you are, I’m going to kill you then Natasha and I are getting the hell out of here.” Clint’s voice was cocky and relaxed even though his entire body was tense and aching all over. 

“Natasha? I think you mean Natalia, and she’s not going anywhere except by body bag to Russia. But you really should know my name, its Aleksei Pavlovich, and I’m the one who broke the infamous Black Widow.” Clint’s jaw clenched but his posture remained relaxed. Aleksei smiled maliciously, his eerie blue eyes meeting Clint’s. 

“I did enjoy the way she screamed and begged for me to stop while it lasted, music to my ears.” He knew the man was just trying to goad him into attacking so he could finish Clint off with a bullet before he even got close enough to do any damage. 

Clint weighed the options in his head, he wasn’t close enough to disarm Aleksei, and with a glance across the room he knew his trusty bow was too far out of reach to be any use. 

“Hawk, extraction team is 10 clicks out and coming in hot.” Phil’s voice came through his comm device and Clint knew what he had to do. He knew Aleksei was examining him closely looking for any chink in his defenses, but not too concerned that Clint was going to attack. It was as good a chance as any.

Without any external warning signs Clint flew at Aleksei, who was just able to get the gun up and squeeze off a shot before Clint smashed into him, sending them both tumbling down the steps to the basement. Before they had even stopped crashing down the stairs Clint was tucking into himself and rolling clear of Aleksei’s body, landing in a crouch. 

The fall had knocked the gun over close to the lone doorway. Aleksei kicked out at Clint’s leg that was pouring blood from his place on the floor, causing it to buckle and Clint to go down to one knee. Meanwhile Aleksei jumped agilely to his feet striking out at Clint with his fist. 

He barely managed to avoid the man’s large fist as he dove between Aleksei’s leg, slicing at his Achille’s tendon with his last throwing star. Aleksei cursed at the archer’s sudden movement and jumped out of the way of Clint’s deadly star. Aleksei ran to the gun picking it up just as the throwing star left Clint’s hand. 

There was a dull thud and Aleksei looked down at the star embedded into his chest, blood spurting out from the wound. He looked to Clint who was moving closer then raised the gun, pointing it through the doorway at the delicate redhead who was bound to a chair.

Time stopped, Clint could hear himself screaming as the sound of a gunshot rang out through the small space. The gun fell from Aleksei’s hand as he collapsed forward, driving the star into his heart. 

Clint sprinted into the small room and straight to the chair that Natasha was tied to. Her head was thrown back and blood poured out of a bullet wound just below her left shoulder. He brought his hands up cradling her head in his hands, praying, pleading for her to open her eyes. One hand supported her head as the other pressed against her wound. Phil was in Clint’s ear yelling, demanding to know what happened. 

She wasn’t opening her eyes. She had to open her eyes. Clint fought madly when hands gripped him and pulled him away from her, the extraction team pouring into the small house. All he could see was blood. There was so much blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see that review button down there... yeahhhhh press it, let me know how that feels!
> 
> xoxo


	9. Call Me Your Favorite, Call Me Your Worst

“Nest this is Hawk, I’m in position, ready to go in.” Clint’s low voice came over the the line. Phil stood from where he had been seated, on the cot of the safe house in Budapest, and made his way over to the makeshift ‘command center’ he had set up on the kitchen table. 

“Affirmative Hawk, I have the extraction team from Milan in the air. They’re about 60 clicks out. You’re cleared to engage.” The sound of tapping keys filled the tense air as Phil logged into a secure line to contact the extraction team. He instructed the team to go in hot, prepared for hostiles, and they were to collect the missing assassin at any cost. 

Phil cocked his head to the side listening intently realizing that Clint had left his comm device active as the muffled sound of choking came through the line. There were several seconds of silence then Clint’s voice sounded, low and deadly, 

“Tell your boss that Hawkeye is here. And we have some business to discuss.” 

His eyes widened, Clint wasn’t playing around, but this wasn’t like him. Clint usually preferred the stealth or distance kills, lurking deep in the shadows, undetectable until it was too late. Phil sent up a prayer to whoever was listening that his two assassins would still be in one piece at the end of the night, as he checked the status of the extraction team again. 

Gunshots rang out and he could hear Clint cursing under his breath. Goddamn it Clint! You better not have gotten shot again. But Phil knew better than to ask and distract him. Instead he nervously paced back and forth across the small room wishing there was more he could do. There were some days when field work was less stressful and field work was not even close to being as demanding as being a handler. Especially dealing with his two top agents, Phil swore they were going to drive him to an early grave. 

He paused in his lap of the room when he heard Clint gasp and groan in pain. Phil stood stock still as he vaguely heard the sound of skin smacking against skin then Clint cursed under his breath before speaking, sounding like he was winded. 

“Alright. Alright. I yield.” Phil’s eyes widened, he started over to the cot where his Glock and holster were inside his bag, when there was a loud yell ringing through the line followed quickly by four gunshots. The yell hadn’t sounded like Clint, but Phil was frozen in place, the fear for his archer’s safety etched into his face. 

A flurry of movement followed by a large thump sounded through Phil’s comm device. Everything was eerily silent a few moments before there was one more gunshot. Phil could barely make out the voice of another man, he hurried to his ‘control center’ and with a few clicks had enhanced the audio stream from Clint’s comm. 

"…….don't care who you are, I’m going to kill you then Natasha and I are getting the hell out of here.” Clint’s voice sounded sounded flippant as it came over the line, but Phil could hear the menacing, hard edge behind the words. 

“Natasha? I think you mean Natalia, and she’s not going anywhere except by body bag to Russia. But you really should know my name, its Aleksei Pavlovich, and I’m the one who broke the infamous Black Widow.”

Phil’s stomach dropped, for the three years Natasha had been at SHIELD her most recurring nightmare centered around this man. He couldn’t count the number of times Natasha had cried out the name in her sleep before violently waking, knife in hand, trembling and gasping for breath. Phil had never said anything knowing Natasha was to proud to admit her weakness, and he knew that in time, she would open up like Clint had. 

“……..the way she screamed and begged for me to stop while it lasted, music to my ears.” Phil caught the tail end of a sentence that made his blood run cold. He pulled up a link checking how close the extraction team was, praying they weren’t too late. 

"Hawk, extraction team is 10 clicks out, and coming in hot.” He updated the archer on the situation, hoping that Clint could keep the man distracted and talking until the team was mobilized on the ground. 

Phil opened his mouth to tell the archer to keep Aleksei talking when he heard Clint grunt as something around him crashed heavily. He could hear Clint’s hiss of pain then muffled sounds he guessed were the two locked in combat. There was a beat of silence then the sound of something whistling through the air, the sound of panting filling Phil’s head. Then all hell broke loose. 

“No, NO.” Clint screamed as a gunshot echoed over the line. Phil was up and running to the door as Clint’s cries tore at his heart. Something had just gone extremely wrong. The prayers repeating through Phil’s head rose to a fever pitch, pleading for the safety of the two agents who, with all their faults and bristly edges, had managed to find a special place in his heart. 

“YOU SON OF A BITCH. NO!” Clint continued to scream, his voice breaking, sounding raw. Phil was already sliding in his black two door sedan turning the engine over before taking off, wheels squealing on the pavement as he hurried to get to the few people he considered family. 

“Alpha team what is your status.” It took every bit of control he had to not scream at the Alpha leader. 

“We have boots on the ground sir. Seven hostiles were previously eliminated. Heading to basement level now.” The commander’s voice was a crisp and professional, grounding Phil, giving him something to grab onto. He switched gears in his mind, letting a cool composed mask fall over his features, even as his blood pumped adrenalin through his system fueling the panic inside. 

"You'll need a medic, be careful of the Hawk. I'm less than 3 clicks out." He pressed the pedal closer to the floor, honking as he flew through the intersections. 

“Copy that, we’ll be waiting for your orders Sir.” The comm link shut off, automatically connecting back to Clint’s line, Clint was breathing hard, close to sobbing, his heartbreaking words causing every protective instinct inside Phil to rise to the forefront. 

“Please Tasha. Open your eyes for me. Oh God……… Please. I need you to look at me. Tasha. Don’t leave me, I can’t be alone any more, please.”

There. The two helicopters circling in the air were a dead giveaway. Phil slammed on the breaks and put the car in park, running towards the door, his badge held high, demanding entrance. His eyes took in the first floor of the house, cataloguing the smallest details, even as he sprinted towards the doorway leading to the basement. 

There were three men down, blood still pouring out from their throats, collecting around their bodies. One was slumped against a wall, an arrow with bits of flesh and blood dripping down was embedded in the wall above the head of the dead man. The next had a throwing star buried in his throat, and the third had a jagged hole where Phil assumed an arrow had been. Another man was down, his neck turned at a grotesque angle, and the final body was in the middle of the floor, laying in a pool of slowly coagulating blood, riddled with bullet holes. 

“DON’T YOU LAY A FUCKING HAND ON HER!” Clint’s voice, raw and emotion filled, reverberated through the hall. Phil slid to a stop in front of the doorway taking in the scene in front of him. His eyes went first to Clint; with bruises on his face and blood streaming down one leg and his arm, struggling hard against the three pairs of arms trying to hold him back. 

Next his eyes found Natasha, two medics crowded around her applying pressure to a wound in her upper left chest, as even more blood poured sluggishly out from her thigh. Phil’s head snapped back to Clint as he viciously lashed out, breaking a wrist with one hand, then throwing his elbow back into the face of another before two more men jumped in to help, finally subduing the archer. 

“NO. DON’T TOUCH HER! Please.” Clint’s voice broke on the last word and he sank to his knees, tears streaming down his face. Phil shook himself from his stupor and slowly approached Clint, hands up and out as if he were approaching a wounded animal. 

“Shhhh. Clint, take a breath. Take it easy.” Clint wasn’t moving, minus his heaving shoulders as he struggled to draw breaths through the pain in his chest, his eyes trained on Natasha’s too pale face. Phil moved closer and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder while waving off the men. They looked sadly at Clint then Natasha before retreating. The room fell silent except for the low murmurings of the two medics still working furiously to stabilize Natasha, as Clint and Phil looked on, fear evident in their expressions. 

 

Clint saw red when three pairs of hands grabbed him from behind. He struggled wildly nearly sobbing as he watched the blood starting to gush from Natasha’s wound again. One of the hands inadvertently gripped around his bicep where a round was buried inside the muscle, his vision wavered as he fought to keep from passing out.

He was vaguely aware of someone screaming as the medics began working on Natasha, one applying pressure to the wound, the other inserting an IV then running another line into her arm, this one supplying precious blood. 

Clint still fought against the hands keeping him from holding Natasha, he gripped one of the wrists and twisted hard, feeling the bones crunch under his hand. At the same time he drove his elbow up and into the face of someone behind him, feeling their nose break under the force. 

Clint was starting to whirl on his next opponent when two more pairs of hands grabbed him, wrapping around the bullet wound in his right bicep as a leg knocked into his sprained left knee, sending Clint crashing to the ground. A familiar voice broke through the haze surrounding his mind, soothing like a balm. 

“Shhhh. Clint, take a breath. Take it easy.” As if by magic the offending hands disappeared and were replaced by one large hand, resting on his shoulder. The reassuring touch bringing some of the blind panic and fear into check, as he tried to drag several breaths into his abused lungs. 

Clint watched numbly as a stretcher was brought into the room and Natasha’s limp body was lifted onto it. Her usual glowing porcelain skin was now too pale and dull, there were dark circles under her eyes and deep purple and black bruises along her jaw. The vibrant red color of her hair a stark contrast to the pallor of her face. The medics gave a signal and they started moving out of the room hurrying to the helicopter. 

The hand on his shoulder moved to help him up, and Clint tore his gaze away from the door Natasha had been taken through and met the tired blue eyes of his handler. 

“Let’s get going, we’ll get on the next bird and be right behind Natasha. They have a full medical team standing by in Milan.” Phil’s voice was low and gentle. Clint just nodded a bone deep exhaustion setting in. Phil’s hand curled around Clint’s bicep, squeezing the bullet wound, as he helped Clint stand. Clint hissed as his vision went fuzzy and the world tilted violently. 

If it weren’t for Phil’s quick reflexes Clint would have crumpled to the ground, instead he managed to get one hand around the archer’s shoulders and the other on his bicep, lowering him gently to the ground. He frowned as his hand came away wet.

“Son of a bitch.” He muttered under his breath before raising his voice and calling for a medic as he checked Clint over for any other obvious injuries. He should have known to look the archer over as soon as he got there, knowing Clint wouldn’t admit to any injuries, even when threatened by Dr. Graley. His hands checked Clint over, pausing at his blood soaked pant leg.

Of course the idiot had been shot twice, was still bleeding profusely, and still managed to take out two, nearly three agents. A medic came back into the room, keeping her distance from the deadly archer after seeing what he had done earlier to the other agents

“He took two bullets, one in the calf that was in and out, the other in his bicep, bullet is still in there.” Phil moved back slightly but not quite out of reach as the medic moved in closer, inspecting both wounds. 

“We’re going to need to get him on the bird and to the hospital ASAP. I didn’t bring a bag of blood in his type along, but he desperately needs some, I’d say he’s lost a pint, maybe more.” She spoke quickly then activated her comm, calling for another stretcher to be brought in. 

Phil stayed nearby in case Clint woke up and panicked. But the medic wasn’t taking any chances, strapping Clint’s limbs down to the stretcher before loading him into the awaiting helicopter. Phil climbed in and strapped himself in, finally allowing himself to take his first deep breath since he received Clint’s initial call nearly 24 hours ago. 

He looked to Clint’s still form strapped into the stretcher, oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose and just shook his head. His agents never did anything halfway he thought tiredly. Now they were in the care of some of the best medical professionals in the world, and Phil could see there was a light at the end of the tunnel.


	10. Tell Me it's Over, I don't Want You to Hurt

1 hour outside of Milan, Italy. 

20,000 feet up in the air the mood in the helicopters was tense. The medic attending to Natasha hadn’t stopped moving since arriving by her side. He reached up and replaced the depleted bag of blood with a fresh one as the precious substance was pumped back into her abused body. An oxygen mask covered her face and she was hooked up to several different machines, the sound of the heart monitor beeping irregularly was the only noise that broke the silence. 

The bullet wound on her chest was still bleeding, even as another member of the extraction team held steady pressure on the wound, attempting to slow the bleeding. The medic had gently cleaned and stitched the deepest of the cuts running down her right thigh in an attempt to keep blood inside her body. 

He sighed heavily as he took in her battered body. The green corset she wore was cut in several places, burnt in others, and soaked with blood and sweat. The stockings were mostly shredded and stiff with blood as well. The medic prayed she could hold on until they made it to Milan, as he busied himself by starting to clean the most severe of the burns on her torso. 

 

20 minutes outside of SHIELD base in Milan. 

Phil’s eyes were trained on a spot right above Clint’s head, staring hard but not seeing anything. His mind was far away, going over and examining the nightmarish events of the past 24 hours. How had the Red Room managed to find Natasha? And where was Vexx? There was something that niggled at him from the back of his mind, but he ignored it, chalking the weird feeling up to the remnants of adrenalin and exhaustion. 

His vision focused and he ran his eyes over Clint’s still form concentrating on the regular rise and fall of his chest. Phil couldn’t help as his mind transported him back six or so months when he watched Clint cling to life in the aftermath of the shit show that was the Colombia assignment. 

………….

_How could such a simple assignment have gone so wrong? On the surface the hit was straightforward, almost textbook, if there were such a thing for assassinations. Barton was to go in, do surveillance to learn the target’s habits, then from a perch high above the masses take out the man, making a getaway before anyone was the wiser. In and out, no problem._

_However no one was prepared for the target’s nearly perfect defense against the legendary archer. Phil still wasn’t sure how Clint had managed to be captured, or even the details of his imprisonment. Phil had found the archer while he was doing surveillance on the man he thought had taken his agent.. Clint was sprawled against the rough wood wall, bleeding out from a gunshot wound to the back._

_Phil carried the unconscious archer back to the safe house where he had an extraction team waiting to get them both onto the Quinjet that would take them back to the base in Miami, Florida. He sat in the back corner of the jet watching as the medic worked quickly to stabilize Clint. The had been in the air less than 20 minutes when all hell broke loose._

_Clint’s heart rate spiked suddenly, the shrill beeping of the heart monitor echoing through the interior of the Quinjet. Then the convulsions started. Phil looked on, his heart in his throat as Clint’s broken body thrashed on the floor of the jet. Without warning everything stopped, the absence of the sound of the heart monitor more deafening than a gunshot._

_“He’s crashing. I need the jump kit. Now!” Phil hadn’t realized he had taken several steps towards Clint until a hand landed on his shoulder, gently restraining him._

_“Everyone clear!” There was a second of silence then a small whump as Clint’s body flopped with the shock. The process was repeated again, as the few agents gathered waited with bated breath. But still nothing. Phil’s heart was breaking, he felt he was finally getting through to the archer, breaking through his walls of deadly silence, it was a damned waste of a good life._

_"Sir…….? Sir…?”_  
…………………

“Sir? Agent Coulson?” The hand that gripped his shoulder nearly had him jumping in surprise, he hadn’t realized his mind had wandered so far. Phil looked up into the pinched face of the copilot. 

“What is it?” He asked, his eyes going immediately to Clint’s form. 

“It’s Agent Romanoff, just got word from the other chopper that her condition has worsened.” The copilot looked away before continuing quietly. “They’re loosing her.”

Phil was instantly on his feet, glancing at his watch. Less than 10 minutes outside of Milan. He grabbed his comm device out of his pocket, tucking it into his ear even as he was connecting to the Head of Operations of the Milan base. 

“Base, this is Agent Coulson, I’m requesting immediate medical assistance to the chopper deck, you’re gonna need a crash cart. I have one agent requiring immediate attention.” 

“Copy that Agent Coulson, we’re sending men up to the deck now. Can you give us an estimated time out?” 

“We’re 3 clicks out, base.” Phil could see the small brightly colored houses of Milan were just a blur as the helicopter sped towards the base.” 

“Roger that.” He clicked off his transmission signal, his hands running through his hair praying Natasha could hold on just a little longer. 

 

His feet hit the tarmac the second the bird touched down, already moving towards the first chopper. His eyes caught sight of a flash of brilliant red hair as Natasha was brought out from the helicopter. He could hear the sound of the defibrillator powering up from where he stood, his mind drifting back to when he lost Clint the first time 30,000 feet over the Caribbean Sea. 

Phil let out a breath of relief when he heard the heart monitor start back up, picking up the shallow beat of her heart. She was wheeled inside quickly, no doubt to prep her for surgery to repair the damage done by the bullet. He turned around quickly as he heard protests starting to come from the helicopter he left Clint inside. Phil sighed, at least he knew Clint was well enough to start throwing threats at his medical staff. Some things never changed. 

 

Clint ended up having to be sedated before he even left the chopper. His singleminded quest to get to Natasha, and refusal of medical care really gave Phil no choice. Clint had six stitches put in the gash on his forehead, the bullet pulled out of his right bicep, where it thankfully had done minimum damage, and had twelve more stitches to close that wound. His left leg was a mess though, a thick brace wrapped around his knee, and twenty-two more stitches in his left calf. And an x-ray revealed he had four broken, and three cracked ribs. The kid was seemingly wrapped from head to toe in bandages. 

Phil sat in the chair next to Clint’s bed, waiting for the sedative he had given the archer to wear off. He had just finished talking to Dr. Sebastian Del Rossi, who had performed Natasha’s surgery. The doctor was confident that Natasha would make a full recovery, as the bullet had done very little damage, other than causing severe blood loss. He had told Phil if it had been a slightly higher caliber gun, she wouldn’t have even made it to the helicopter, let alone the base. 

He had arranged for his two agents to be placed in the same room, knowing Clint wouldn’t be able to settle down until he saw Natasha for himself. Phil didn’t know how the archer was going to be able to hide his feelings for the Black Widow now, but he didn’t think he would have to hide them for long, he had a feeling that the fiery redhead had some feelings of her own. 

His head whipped around at the sound of the door, but he just smiled as the redhead was wheeled into the room, pillows propping her up slightly. Her face was still pale but color was starting to come back, a huge difference from the deathly pallor from earlier. Phil thanked the nurse as she quietly snuck out the door, leaving the two agents in the care of their watchful handler. 

 

The quiet regular sound of a heart monitor was the first thing to register as Clint struggled to open his eyes. This is why I hate sedatives, I feel so damn groggy and out of it. He thought as he squinted against the glare of the lights in the room. The smell of antiseptic washed over him next reminding him where he was. That’s right, hospital. Wait, where’s Natasha? The disjointed thoughts shot through his mind as he forced his eyes wide open, taking in the room around him. 

Phil was sprawled in a chair to his right, mouth slightly opened as he snored softly. Clint’s heart nearly stopped as his eyes caught the most beautiful sight in the world. The largest pair of deep green eyes, glazed over from the drugs running through her system, stared right back at him. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat as his gaze ran over her body cataloguing every bump and bruise he could see before meeting her eyes again. 

“Hey you.” Her voice was whisper light, the exhaustion evident in her tone, but her eyes never left his. 

“Hey.” Was all he could manage past the lump in his throat. His voice sounded like he had been gargling glass, coming out broken and raspy. He frowned slightly, not remembering how he had screamed himself hoarse when he had been at her side. 

“We make quite the pair.” Her eyes blinked sleepily at him. “Thank you for….” She was cut off by Phil’s sharp intake of breath as he shot upright in his chair. His head swiveled first to Clint, then satisfied by what he saw moved his eyes to Natasha. His blue eyes lighting up when he saw she was conscious. He stood in the chair and walked to her bedside gently gripping her hand. 

“You have no idea how good it is to see your pretty green eyes.” He smiled down at her, internally delighting as she weakly squeezed his hand back. 

“It’s good to see you too Coulson.” Phil could see she was quickly tiring so he set her hand back down and made his way over to Clint, who hadn’t taken his eyes off the pair during their exchange. He stood to the side of his bed, eyeing the archer wryly. 

“You gonna behave yourself so I can go grab a bite to eat? Or do I need to send a nurse in to make sure you stay in that bed?” He was glad to see Clint look somewhat sheepish before replying. 

"Nah, you can run along. I’m alright.” His blue-grey eyes met Phil’s before darting back to Natasha’s as if scared she was going to disappear. Phil sighed knowing as long as Natasha was close Clint would do anything to stay by her side. He nodded and headed towards the door. 

"You should definitely bring me some grapes if they have any.” Clint tossed at him as his hand rested on the door handle. Phil could only chuckle, the kid loved grapes, and really it was the least he could do after the past 36 hours they had experienced.

“Alright kid, I’ll see what I can find.” He said over his shoulder as he shut the door quietly. Clint looked back over at Natasha, surprised when her eyes were still open, even from here he could see how she was fighting back sleep as it tried to drag her back into unconsciousness. 

“Clint?” her voice sounded almost needy. Fear flashing across her eyes, making his heart jump, he cursed himself at the wave of protectiveness he felt at her look of vulnerability. He realized he hadn’t answered her so he just nodded and raised an eyebrow at her, worried his voice would give away the emotions he was having trouble concealing. 

"Could you… I mean, that is if you don’t mind.. I, uh…” She looked slightly horrified as she stumbled over her words, and Clint realized she looked shy, a sharp contrast from the easy confidence that she usually carried. “I don’t want to be alone any longer either.” She pushed out in a rush, looking exhausted from the effort that sentence caused her. 

Clint’s world stopped as her words shot through his heart. An image of her pale face in his bloody palm flashed into his mind. “Please Tasha. Open your eyes for me. Oh God……… Please. I need you to look at me. Tasha. Don’t leave me, I can’t be alone any more, please.” The words had tumbled from his lips, the thought of finding her only to lose her was almost too much to bear. His blue-grey eyes met hers, he let all his emotions show, wanting to pound his chest in triumph when he saw the same emotions mirrored in her emerald green gaze. 

He wordlessly pulled the IV from his hand and sat up, grunting as his ribs protested the sudden movement. Swinging his legs from the bed to the ground he settled most of his weight onto his right leg, gripping Phil’s abandoned chair for support as he limped to Natasha’s bed. She had scooted herself over slightly as he climbed in beside her, her body heat sinking into his body. Clint settled her against his chest, his heart beating a little faster as she smiled sleepily at him before closing her eyes. Within seconds her breathing had evened out and Clint knew she was fast asleep.

“Sleep now, I’ve got first watch.” He promised as he pressed a kiss to her head. “I’ll be right here. Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! What happened in Budapest. 
> 
> This is one part of the multi-part universe I'm working on. I'm currently about halfway through writing Colombia, which there were glimpses of in this story. I'll start posting that one soon, and updating as quickly as possible! 
> 
> Let me know what you thought about this fic! OR if you have any ideas for upcomng stories you would like to see! 
> 
> Thanks for reading xoxo
> 
> Here's a quick preview for Colombia!  
> ...............  
>  _Swish, thud. Swish, thud. Swish, thud. His hand reached back to draw another arrow, growling in irritation when he realized his quiver was empty. His footsteps echoed off the walls of the empty target range as moved from target to target pulling his arrows free, noting in the back of his mind that each arrow was buried, dead center, in every target. With his quiver full again he returned to the line, pressing a button next to him which started the targets in motion._
> 
>  
> 
> _He nocked an arrow and drew it back, relishing in the feel of his sore muscles, released a deep breath and let the arrow fly. Before it even had a chance to hit the target he had another drawn as he sighted down the shaft at his next target. He pushed himself harder, his hands nearly a blur as the arrows rained on the targets. The last arrow buried itself halfway into the target with a dull thud, but still the archer was not satisfied._
> 
>  
> 
> _Clint Barton, codename Hawkeye, never missed a shot. But tonight wasn’t about the practice, tonight he was running from the demons that chased him._

**Author's Note:**

> There's chapter one! Not too much action in these first couple chapters, but they are setting up really important plot points, so pay attention!! :)
> 
> Drop me a review if you liked it!
> 
> xoxo


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